That time John tried to grow a mustache
by drawthewaffle
Summary: Its a typical morning at 221B Baker Street, that is until repressed feelings start to show. JohnLock preslash to slash


**HAI! this is my first JohnLock and honestly it kinda suck but cut me some slack, if you want to follow me on tumblr I post a LOT of SuperWhoLock. My URL is****_ thedoctorhasanewhaircut . tumblr ._**** com but without the spaces**

You're not thinking of growing a moustache, are you John?"

To tell the truth, John wasn't sure if he was. That morning he'd just felt an inexplicable urge to grow one. Not knowing how long this urge would last, John shrugged.

"No, I suppose not, Sherlock."

"Good," the high functioning sociopath mused, "it would look horrid."

Sherlock mentally facepalmed. Of course he wasn't supposed to tell john that! But he couldnt take it back anymore so he settled for an inaudible chastising.

John was surprised to find himself blushing, self consciously hiding his stubble from sight. He wasn't sure why he even cared, Sherlock Holmes certainly wasn't one whose opinion could be taken validly on the subject of personal and appearance care, so why was he blushing? Why did he care?

John continued to ponder about this as he made himself a cup of earl grey, adding some milk and little sugar. His train of thought strayed as he tried to figure out why Sherlock's eyes seemed especially stormy when they were hit by the hazy light of the rising sun, or why Sherlock's dark locks framed his face so perfectly. Wondering how cheekbones could even be so sharp and regal and wether he got them from his father or Mummy Holmes. How could Sherlock look so fucking appealing even in clear frustration?

Little did John know that he was the epitome of Sherlock's distress. However smart the consulting detective was, regardless of the care and fragility with which he regarded the subject, he couldnt figure out why or what his flatmate made him feel. Sherlock didn't understand why he was overtaken by an almost unsurmountable need to hug his adorably hedgehog featured friend and never let him go. Sherlock was less confused though, by his desire to rip off the head of any female, or male, who dared approach John.

Sherlocks coffe grew stale as he pondered on the subject and before he knew it it was dark.

John continued to cover his upper lip as he finished his cup of tea and jam toast. After the meal he quickly left to the upper bathroom and finished shaving off his short lived moustache attempt. After a quick shower the ex-army doctor settled down with "_Brave New World" _by Aldous Huxley determined to finish it by nightfall. After sever futile hours of staring at the wordy pages John couldnt find it in him to finish the novel, every few pages, no matter how hard he tried to not, his thought returned to the ebony haired beauty pacing downstairs.

By the time John got downstairs, most of the day had come and gone. He'd skipped lunch but John wasn't hungry, as a matter of fact he felt full. This was unusual seeing as John was a normal human being and, unlike Sherlock, actually required sustenance. Sighing the doctor opened his laptop and checked his blog, answering questions from readers and denying any sort of sexual relationship between himself and Sherlock.

The worlds only consulting detective was glad when John came down. John was safe and John was safe and soft, like a kitten but sherlock much preffered a hedgehog. John, his hedghog. Sherlock's hedgehog. After a while of absent minded staring at John Sherlock notices that the faint trace of stubble that had previously adorned John's upper lip were now gone.

"Why did you shave it?"

John stayed silent for a moment before answering "it guess it didn't suit me, " John failed to mentioned he'd been asking himself the same question not long before, "you were right." He finished off.

Holmes scratched out a sound that held an uncanny resemblance to a dying feline, on his violin, before facing John again, staring into the shorter man's cerulean eyes.

"You shaved it because I said it would be horrid didn't you?"

John shrugged, then nodded after a pause.

"You didn't have too."

John shrugged again, "I felt like I did..." he muttered.

Subconsciously the consulting detective reached out to hold his flatmate. A blush tainted the others cheeks, John was warm to the touch and Sherlock found that he liked this. A chilly breeze found its way into baker street encouraging John to lean further into he embrace. Sherlock generally disliked touching and/or being touched but he found this strangely pleasing. He ran a hand through the blond army doctor's shortly cropped hair, it was soft and smelled like John's shampoo, obviously.

Neither man noticed just how close they were until the distance between them was sealed and they fell into a heated kiss. It lasted an eternity, an infinity packed into a few moments, long drawn seconds of blurry brain activity and everything but them ceased to exist. They were panting when they finally broke apart, neither of them wanted to let go.

Normally John's first instinct would've been to quickly assert his heterosexuality but the kiss, Sherlock, was so mind blowing that he couldn't help thinking 'okay, maybe just a little homo' before smiling and pulling Sherlock in for another kiss. A kiss led to many nights of lust and bliss, just because one morning, John Watson woke up with an inexplicable urge to grow amoustache

**Thats all Folkz, sorry if i wasted your time but if i didnt please review or check out my tumblr, either is greatly appreciated.**


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